nevernotwriting

[nevernotwriting]

he's been doing real good since you "went away to space camp"❕🪐

he deserves a fan club in-universe or something. somebody score this man a broadway role. start a theatre club in the prison!! put on musicals in the yard!! NEWAYSS,, coming up on midterms but trying to squeeze in some drawings when I eek out some time to sit down with my ipad!! I'm a bit more active in the discord so join us there for some markcu chatter & events! (watch parties & stuff like that!) I hope you guys are doing well and thanks for the love on the blog while I've been gone! 💞

join the markiplier ego discord! (up to date link in pinned post!)

[nevernotwriting]

Me when visitation is every third Sunday

[nevernotwriting]

This was actually so mean of Markiplier to tease us with and I think he's a bully /j

[nevernotwriting]

Dude is thinking

[nevernotwriting]

Well, this is awkward.

I'd like to start off by apologising for my extended silence. I know I don't owe anyone an apology because I write for free and for fun, but I know a lot of people love this story and have been waiting for too long for an update. If it makes you feel better, it haunts me on a daily basis that I haven't posted an update in so long.

I don't really like to discuss my personal life too much, but I'd like to make an exception here and give a bit of context on my extended absence. I'm very fortunate to be able to say that the reasons for my absence have been largely positive, and I acknowledge that some of the things I'm about to talk about are very first-world problems.

I started writing this story in 2020. At this time, I was living with my parents after just completing a master's degree. I was desperately job searching in an economy and a world that was anything but friendly to inexperienced graduates. This story was an escape from the world at the time, and an escape from the gruelling job application process - job rejection process, more like. However, I fought tooth and nail and, eventually, I managed to get the job I'd been hoping for.

Unfortunately, about six months into working full-time (from home), the creative block began to set in. Working in the same place I used to write meant that my writing space was now associated with work. Mentally, it was difficult to switch from "work mode" to "creative mode". Furthermore, my job requires staring at a screen, and so does writing, obviously. After staring at a screen all day for work, staring at a screen all night for one of my main hobbies was the last thing I wanted to do. Work also took up a lot of my mental energy, so I had very little "juice" left at the end of the day to create from. I managed to churn out a few bits here and there, but this is where my writing began to suffer. Thanks, capitalism.

A little while later, when the world opened up, I picked up some new, active hobbies to reclaim some of my time and get me out of the house. Through one of these hobbies, I met someone who instantly struck a chord in me. We fell for one another quite quickly, but in a way that felt very natural. He treats me exceptionally well and wants to build a life with me. I've not really experienced an enthusiastic "us first" partner before, so it was an unexpected but very welcome change. Thankfully, I've been through enough therapy to quiet the gremlins in my brain that want to sabotage the good things in my life. We've both dealt with our fair share of ups and downs, and we're far from perfect, but we have a shared, peaceful life together now which feels fantastic. A lot of the extraneous issues we dealt with in the first couple of years of our relationship have lessened significantly or completely vanished, partially thanks to my next point.

Speaking of building a life, I also bought a house in this time - something I never thought I would do in this economy! It was a bit of a fixer-upper, so house renovations took over our lives for several months. It was a constant onslaught of working all day, going to the house, doing DIY for a few hours, returning home, and going to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat. We did a lot of things ourselves to save on costs - wallpaper stripping, painting, taking up flooring, putting down new flooring, removing textured paint from some walls (yeah, textured paint is a thing apparently... a thing invented by the devil), and more bits that I'm probably forgetting. We managed to move in just before Christmas, still surrounded by boxes, and then came the rest of what building a home entails - buying furniture, putting it together, and, finally, the fun decorating process of putting up shelves and knickknacks so we can display our personalities and interests. It took quite a while to get our creative office space just right, but we eventually reached a point where that room was 90% complete. Now, my partner can work on his own creative projects, and I can sink my teeth into writing. I'm very fortunate to have a creative space that's now separate from my work space, unlike before.

Despite finally building a creative space I can call my own, in a home my partner and I poured blood, sweat, and tears into... I sat down and found that I couldn't write. Ironic, given my blog title, I know. I would sit at my desk feeling - and I don't use this word lightly - paralyzed. At first, I put it down to exhaustion - I spent a solid few months working full-time and using all my free hours doing house renovations, I needed to give myself a break. So that's what I did. However, I still had to work. Work was already taking up a good chunk of my time and energy, and work didn't care that I'd been doing DIY for 5+ hours every evening after the working day ended. Not to say that my colleagues weren't understanding, but the show must go on nonetheless.

Even once the exhaustion eased off a little, work did not. The exhaustion came back - it was more mental tiredness than anything, mixed with a lack of enjoyment/fulfilment in my daily work tasks. We'd finally gotten into a bit of a routine with our new lives, but I slowly started to realise something that was, quite honestly, pretty devastating. This job, the job that I wanted, that I fought like hell to get, that helped pay for the life I'd been building, was not for me anymore.

Enter burnout. Enter crippling guilt, depression, and a lot of tears.

To say it sucks when you realise the thing you fought relentlessly to get is now the thing causing you to feel miserable is an understatement, to say the least. Alas, work must persist because we have bills to pay. I was able to cut down my working hours a little bit to claim some of my time back, but the creative paralysis is still there a lot of the time.

Then, this morning, in a moment of uncanny timing, I woke up to this lovely comment on my fic:

This definitely made my day and it's given me a lot to think about, so thank you to the person who left this comment. If you have Tumblr and you happen to see this post, I hope you know how much this comment means to me. If not, I replied to this comment on AO3 as well to show my appreciation. Thank you, really.

While I'm not making any promises for a splurge of updates anytime soon, I do know that going forward, I need to hold myself accountable and set boundaries for my creative time. Not only for the benefit of this story, but for ALL of my hobbies, and for my mental health, too. Work has taken over too much of my life and headspace in recent years, and it's sapped me of time and energy to do what makes me feel alive. Whilst some may say "welcome to adulthood", to those people I say "who says you can't have fun just because you have to work?" I refuse to continue feeling like a shell of who I once was.

It's not going to be easy, but I'm willing to put the work in. As much as I believe you can't force creativity, the lack of creativity in my life recently means that I can't sit idly and expect the muses to come knocking on my door - I need to go to them and hang out for a bit. I could probably also do with getting my ADHD medicated, but that's a story for another day.

The rise of AI is another thing that's been adding to the creative paralysis for me, to be honest. No one wants their work churned into a machine and spat out as a husk of its former self. It's made me want to not share my work anymore out of fear, even though I'm by no means in the big leagues. I know this fear is being felt across other mediums, too - mainly for artists - and it's horrible to see it all unfold in real-time. But I'm going to do my best to push through this fear. Depriving myself of the joy of creating and sharing my creations only hurts me, in the end. The problems of capitalist greed and AI is not something I'll be able to solve alone, so I may as well do what makes me happy in the meantime.

I'll stop there for now or I'll be here all day. But yeah. Thanks for reading, if you've gotten this far. I may not be able to change the world on my own, but I can change my world in the meantime.

"It gets easier. Every day, it gets a little easier. But you gotta do it every day, that's the hard part. But it does get easier." - Bojack Horseman

[nevernotwriting]

Excited to watch In Space!

Just to clarify: I'm still around, and I have every intention of finishing YM&Y, creativity has just taken a bit of a backseat lately and I needed a break. Thanks again for all your patience, everyone!

[nevernotwriting]

I became aware of this website today and had some fun with it:

I hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter, it was a lot of fun to write! I'm still in the drafting stages of chapter 16, but for now, I hope these incorrect quotes keep you entertained! Thanks for your patience!

[nevernotwriting]

"i could fix him" yeah? well i could accept him as he is. you don't like the murder? grow up. the atrocities are part of him and ive decided they're funny

[nevernotwriting]

Adding this one cause it had me cackling

I became aware of this website today and had some fun with it:

I hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter, it was a lot of fun to write! I'm still in the drafting stages of chapter 16, but for now, I hope these incorrect quotes keep you entertained! Thanks for your patience!

[nevernotwriting]

I became aware of this website today and had some fun with it:

I hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter, it was a lot of fun to write! I'm still in the drafting stages of chapter 16, but for now, I hope these incorrect quotes keep you entertained! Thanks for your patience!

[nevernotwriting]

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 15: Be Careful what you Wish For

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

“Z? Yous ready yet?”

Yancy shouted down the hall to you. You stood in the bathroom turning left and right in front of the mirror, still apprehensive to come out and make an appearance. It had been a long time since you’d worn anything this… extravagant. Were clothes supposed to fit this tightly? You thought to yourself, smoothing out the fabric. With a sigh, you knew there was little point in trying to adjust your outfit any further, so you stepped out of the bathroom.

At the end of the hallway, Yancy was stood in front of a mirror, wearing the suit you’d helped him pick out during the week. Your heart quickened at the sight of him, smile widening as he failed to tie his bow tie. A prominent crease settled between his eyebrows and he huffed defeatedly, draping the fabric around his neck. You couldn’t help but giggle.

The sound caught him by surprise. His eyes met yours in the mirror and he whipped round, eyes growing wide as they travelled down to your feet and back up to your face. A blush crept onto his cheeks.

“Wow. Yous look… amazing,” he said, clearing his throat and wrestling with his bow tie again.

“Thanks,” you replied, scratching the back of your neck and stepping forward. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Yancy hummed a small laugh in response, the blush in his cheeks infinitely more obvious as you stepped closer. His hair was coiffed a little neater than usual and his bruises had completely disappeared. His neck tattoo peeked out from underneath the white collar of his shirt, a subtle reminder that he was no ordinary well-dressed gentleman.

“I can’t get this damn thing tied though,” he grumbled, turning back to the mirror.

“Here, let me.”

Yancy let his hands drop and turned to you, freezing on the spot as you inched in closer. You took the material in your hands, trying to ignore his eyes boring into you as you worked. Your fingers were on fire as you brushed his neck and tightened the bow, your gentle breaths the only sound exchanged.

“There.” The word was quiet, with a subtle warmth to it. When you finally met his eyes, your mind ground to a halt. Neither of you moved for what felt like an eternity, until Yancy’s eyes flicked to your lips and he leaned forward.

Adrenaline kicked in and you surged forward as well, pressing your lips against his for the briefest of moments. It was sweet despite its brevity, his lips soft and warm. When you opened your eyes, however, Yancy was still frozen solid.

“I-I’m sorry,” you began, heat rising to your face as your mind began to whir back into panicked action. “I hope that wasn’t too forward of me-”

“No, no, not at all,” Yancy finally burst back to life, a grin forming on his face. “It was nice.”

His words calmed you, and you dropped your shoulders with a relieved sigh. The two of you stood there for a moment longer, grinning like school kids, until he moved to your side and held out his arm.

“Shall we?”

You linked your arm through his, striding forward together.

Yancy was exceptionally quiet during car journeys; he seemed content to take in the views and watch the world whizz by. You didn’t mind, though you wondered if your quiet journey would continue now that there’d be three of you. Pulling up outside Mark’s house, you beeped the horn.

Mark climbed into the back, looking crisp and clean in his own tuxedo. Your grip on the steering wheel subconsciously tightened.

“Hey! Thanks for picking me up. You look great,” he said, fastening himself in.

“Thanks,” you replied with a slight smile.

Mark cleared his throat. “Hi, Yancy.”

Yancy didn’t tear his eyes away from the window. “Hey.”

You turned the radio on, less out of desire for music and more out of obligation to fill the awkward silence. The engine hummed as you picked up speed, merging onto the interstate for Yorba Linda. A soft pop song filled the car, but it wasn’t long before it was drowned out.

“So,” Mark finally broke the silence, leaning to one side to glance between you and Yancy. “We all know the drill for tonight, right?”

You didn’t take your eyes off the road as you replied. “Yeah. Go in, schmooze our way around all the rich people, and find out which painting is the most valuable.”

“And I assume we go back and steal it once the exhibition is over?” Yancy added.

“Exactly,” Mark said. “The exhibition finishes on Sunday. Shrike and Vakarian already mapped out the place and the guard rotations, so we’ve got all of tonight just to look around. Let’s just try and keep our hands clean.”

Yancy jerked in his seat, turning to frown at Mark. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The shock in Mark’s tone was clear as day. “What? Nothing!”

“Yous think cause I done hard time I’m gonna start throwin’ punches?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“What didyous mean then, huh?”

“Guys!”

The two of them stopped and snapped their heads towards you, faint guilt in their expressions. You took a deep breath.

“Look, I think you two got off on the wrong foot,” you sighed. Mark scoffed, muttering something under his breath, but you continued. “Why don’t you focus on what you have in common?”

Yancy grumbled. “Like what?”

“Well…” You glanced to the side and in the rear-view mirror. Two pairs of expectant eyes stared back at you. “Yancy mentioned to me that he’s from Ohio. Mark, you’re from Ohio too, right?”

Yancy seemed unimpressed, but he turned back to Mark nonetheless. “Whereabouts yous from?”

“Cinci.”

Yancy snorted. “Small city boy. You wouldn’t last two seconds in Cleveland.”

Mark stifled a laugh. “You’re from Cleveland?”

“Yous got a problem with Cleveland? I knows folk that’d chew you up and spit yous out before-”

You groaned, turning up the radio. This was going to be a long drive.

Thirty minutes and several escalating arguments later, you arrived at The Nixon Library. The steps leading up to the entrance were covered in deep red carpet, where several people stood dressed to the nines and chatting in small groups. You parked your car near the water fountain, hoping your considerably older vehicle didn’t look suspicious wedged between two Lamborghinis.

Both Mark and Yancy offered you their arm as you approached the building, shooting each other matching death glares. Before they could break into another argument, you squeezed between them, grabbing one of their arms on either side of you and walking towards the steps.

“All right. Remember guys, play it cool. Act like we belong here,” you mumbled under your breath, walking into the building as Mark flashed three tickets to the door attendant.

Once you walked through the doors, you weren’t entirely sure how you were going to manage that.

The walls were cream and carved with elegant patterns, a perfect accompaniment to the glossy wooden floor. The foyer continued on for what felt like an eternity, ending with a set of oak doors leading to the rest of the museum. The ceiling seemed to be a million miles away, and every few feet there was another crystal chandelier emitting warm, brilliant light. Chatter from groups and couples filled the air as they talked to various staff members posted near every other painting, each of whom was wearing a deep blue jacket. Each painting was cordoned off with a red velvet rope draping from two gold posts. You gulped, letting go of Mark and Yancy’s arms.

“Okay, according to the blueprints, the hallway loops round the Oval Office and the ballroom’s in the west wing.”

“What’s bettin’ this exhibition spans the whole place?” Yancy asked.

Mark surveyed the hallway, standing tall and straightening his suit. “It probably will. I say we split up, cover as much ground as we can. I’ll take the far hallway, Yancy, you take the ballroom, and Zero, you take the foyer. Sound good?”

You and Yancy glanced at each other. “We can meet up later in the ballroom,” you suggested.

Mark nodded. “Good call. All right, just remember, there’s no rush. The exhibition doesn’t finish ‘til eleven.”

“Plenty of time before our ride turns into a pumpkin, then,” Yancy joked, making you giggle. He slipped his hand into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Mark managed a half-hearted laugh.

“All right, guys. See you later. Zero, just text me if there’s trouble, okay?” Mark’s voice softened at the end as he began to pace away, leaving you with one final smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Yancy went his own way not long after, winking devilishly as he waltzed away into the crowd.

Taking a deep breath, you took a moment to compose yourself.

You got this. No grappling hooks, no gunpowder, just a bunch of rich people. How hard can it be?

You made your way further into the foyer, shoes clacking on the floor with every step.

After thirty minutes of schmoozing and socialising, you came to realise two things: one, talking to these people was surprisingly easy. Second, this art was a lot more expensive than you’d anticipated.

You encountered a piece you could easily imagine hanging on your bedroom wall, only for your eyes to water when a blue-jacketed woman told you the price.

“That’s the same as one year of my college tuition,” you laughed, placing a delicate hand on your chest for effect.

The woman looked you up and down. “Ah, I take it you didn’t go to a privateuniversity, then.”

You blinked. Despite your shock, you let out a small laugh, cocking your head to one side.

“I actually rejected offers from several private universities,” you said, the lie rolling off your tongue almost too casually. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

You hurried further down and into the hallway, leaving the woman a stuttering, blushing mess. A huff escaped as your face soured into a scowl.

How dare she, you thought, paintings passing you by as the crowd began to thin near the doors to the ballroom. I have half a mind to steal the damn thing just so I can smash it over her head-

You stopped, glancing around as if awakening from a trance. Where did that come from? You sighed, feeling the rage leave you as quickly as it appeared. Shaking off your feelings, you opened the door to the ballroom with the intention of finding one or both of your cohorts. Maybe they’d be able to calm you down.

The ballroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the building, the tall windows adorned with gold curtains that hung just above the floor. On the far end of the room, a table lined with white cloth held a plethora of food on silver platters, and a small band occupied the opposite corner. Judging by the couples applauding in the centre of the room, you guessed they’d just finished playing a song.

“Hey! There you are.”

You looked forward, realising you were face to face with a pair of brown eyes and a very happy smile.

“Yancy! I’m glad I found you, I-”

“Me too, they’re about to start the next song and I was uh… I was lookin’ for a partner,” he interrupted you, scratching the back of his neck.

“I… wait, what?”

Yancy chuckled, straightening his back and holding out a hand. “Will yous do me the honour of dancing with me?”

Looking down at his hand, your brain took several seconds to process exactly what he said. Before you could leap into his arms enthusiastically, logic stopped you in your tracks.

“Yancy, we’re meant to be on a mission. Remember?”

He didn’t falter. “Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves a little, right?”

You smiled at last, shaking your head at him as he continued to hold his hand out. He had a point. You felt butterflies enter your stomach as you placed your hand in his.

Triumphantly, Yancy led the two of you into the heart of the room. As he stepped in closer and placed a hand on your waist, the same blush from a couple of hours prior appeared on his cheeks. You smiled, placing your free hand on his shoulder. The band soon began to play a sweet melody, and Yancy guided you through a waltz, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Where’d you learn to dance?” You asked as he spun you round effortlessly.

“Theatre school, remember?” He replied, retaking your waist and stepping with the rhythm, not missing a beat.

You grinned. “Right, of course.”

The mission, your previous anger, the other dancers, and the entire room itself seemed to disappear as the violin’s notes climbed higher and higher. Yancy pulled you in closer. Shivers ran down your spine as he spoke into your ear.

“Yous seem to be enjoyin’ yourself.”

You giggled. “I am. I’m glad I found you when I did, this place was starting to wind me up.”

Yancy pulled away slightly, looking at you with concern. “Why? What happened?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just one of the attendants got on my nerves. I scared myself a little though. I… I thought about stealing a painting just so I could smash it over her head.”

Yancy laughed, a sultry look in his eyes. “Sounds like I’m havin’ a bad influence on you.”

The butterflies intensified. “Maybe. I’m not complaining, though.”

Yancy tightened his grip on your waist. “Yous better be careful what you wish for, Zero.”

The butterflies disappeared, overtaken by a strange, thrilling jolt of lightning. You leaned over his shoulder as the song slowed down slightly, feeling Yancy intake a sharp breath. Your waltzing was replaced with a slow, steady swaying, one that made you want to close your eyes and drift off to sleep in his arms. However, as your eyes lazily scanned the crowd, what you saw awakened you immediately.

Mark was stood at the far end of the room, talking to an elderly couple in between bites of food. He gestured to the room, making the couple laugh with what was no doubt one of his corny jokes. Your heart pounded, guilt overtaking your elation. Shuffling your head slightly, you spoke softly into Yancy’s ear.

“W-we should probably get back to work. We’re still on a mission.”

Yancy kept swaying with you. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you were positive he was smirking.

“Z, relax. I’s already found a prime target.”

“Really? How much?”

“Thirty thousand.”

The song reached its climax, the violins returning tenfold. Yancy spun you around before you even had time to comprehend the change. You came face to face with him once more as he pulled you back to him, chests touching, eyes on each other.

“Besides,” he began again, sweeping the two of you around the room with even more vigour than before. “Don’t worry so much. This kinda mission is child’s play compared to summa the stuff I’s done before.”

Between catching breaths and trying not to trip on your feet, you managed to shoot him an intrigued look. “Care to elaborate?”

Yancy laughed. He slowed the two of you down again, back to a simple box step as the song reached its close. “Maybe another time.”

“I’ll hold you to that one.”

As the song finished, the room filled with applause, but you and Yancy were still in your own little world.

“Like I said, yous gotta be careful what you wish for.”

You inched forward. “I think I’ve already made my wish.”

Yancy’s eyes widened a fraction, a charming smile appearing. “Well, if you’re sure.”

He leaned forward, cupped one of your cheeks, and pressed his lips to your own. It was longer this time, filled with careful confidence as his stubble tickled your chin. Your eyes fluttered shut and your hands caressed his shoulders. Your eyelids were hooded when you pulled apart, your head so hot and your smile so wide you felt as if you could shoot up towards the ceiling and explode into a firework. Seemingly content with your reaction, Yancy gently ghosted his hand from your face and loosened his grip on your waist. His pink cheeks gave him away, however, and his smile grew to match your own.

“I… um… I’m gonna head to the restroom,” you stumbled out the sentence, still burning with too much energy and excitement to care about how out of place the words sounded.

Yancy winked at you. “I’ll be around.”

You practically bolted into the restroom and crashed into the sink, running the cold tap and dabbing your face with water. You stared at your reflection, trying to calm your whirring mind.

Yancy kissed you back. That definitely meant something was happening, right? He liked you. You liked him. What would this mean for the two of you? Or for you and Mark and whatever the hell was going on in that department? You tried to sift through your racing thoughts, looking for a scrap of logic.

You remembered Mark standing on the far end of the ballroom, and your stomach dropped. A lump formed in your throat. Had he seen you dancing? You sighed through your nostrils. Hell, why did you even care? Your stomach twisted with guilt nonetheless, until you remembered something else.

The mission.Right. I should at least ask him how it’s going.

You patted your face dry with a paper towel, then left the bathroom. It felt as if all eyes were on you as you made your way through the crowd, but you pushed forward, spotting Mark standing alone by the buffet table. He was frowning slightly and biting his lip, meaning something was on his mind. Once you were close enough, you cleared your throat. He looked up, slightly surprised to see you.

“Hey!” He said, straightening his outfit. “How’s it going? Found any winners?”

You shook your head with guilt. “All the ones near the foyer were around five to ten grand each,” you explained, looking over your shoulder. “I guess if we could get multiple it’d be fine, but there’s only three of us, and I’d bet these things are heavy.”

Mark stepped in closer. “Yeah, you’re right. We’re best just sticking to one, like we said. Speaking of…”

He trailed off as a gentleman walked up to peruse the buffet. When he walked away with a full plate and a polite smile aimed at the two of you, Mark continued.

“There’s a painting in the far hallway worth forty thousand. Most expensive I’ve seen yet. I think that might be our prime target.”

It somehow made sense that the most expensive painting would be in the heart of the building. With a deep breath, you nodded.

“Okay.”

“Unless Jailbi- sorry, Yancy has found anything more valuable?”

You shook your head again, choosing to ignore his slip. “The one he found in here was worth thirty grand. So no.”

“Right.”

Silence. Your previously glorious mood was starting to deflate, either from guilt or lingering anger. You couldn’t tell which. As your eyes scanned the room, you spotted Yancy talking to a tall gentleman with glasses. Yancy appeared to be doing most of the talking, as the man nodded and occasionally sipped his drink.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mark turn to you again. He glanced at the floor, then back at you.

“Look, I’m sorry about the arguing in the car earlier. That was… pretty immature.”

Your heart melted ever so slightly. He was trying.

“S’alright. It wasn’t really your fault. Yancy does kinda have a short fuse,” you admitted with a reassuring smile.

For the first time in a while, Mark smiled back at you genuinely. Before you could linger on the subject any longer, he turned back to the buffet table with renewed energy.

“So how many of these canapes d’you think I can fit in my pockets?”

“Uh… what?”

“They’re really good!” He exclaimed, popping another one into his mouth. “Have you tried them yet?”

“Mark,” you scolded, but it came out with a bout of laughter. “We’re trying to blend in here. At least pretend you’re a professional.”

He shrugged with a boyish smile. “I am always professional. Besides, there’s no reason we can’t enjoy ourselves a little while we’re here.”

At that, you burst into laughter, doubling over. Mark was equally bewildered and amused by your reaction.

“What’s so funny?”

You grinned at him, shaking your head. “You know, for as much as you rag on Yancy, you two really aren’t that different.”

Your eyes travelled to Yancy yet again. The man he was talking to was considerably more animated now, making light gestures with his free hand. Although Yancy nodded along compliantly, his eyes were narrowed, and his arms were folded.

Mark laughed at your statement, but it was brief. He stared into the crowd, hands knotted together in front of him.

“I’m sure Yancy’s a much better dancer than I am.”

Everything froze as his words cut through to your core.

He saw.

Heat enveloped your body. Your mouth ran dry as you fumbled to say something, anything, to get that kicked puppy look off his face.

“Well, I mean… Yancy suggested it. That’s all.”

Mark smiled at you, but the sadness in his eyes was all too obvious. “I didn’t realise you liked dancing, or I’d have thought about asking you myself.”

Your heart plummeted. “Oh. Well… I’m not much of a dancer. Not really. I just didn’t wanna be rude.”

Mark turned back to the buffet, his eyes still lingering on you as he picked up a canape. “Uh huh.”

More silence. You sighed, eyes now pinned to the floor. You contemplated making another escape to the bathroom, collecting your thoughts, maybe letting some confused tears roll down your cheeks-

The sound of smashing glass and scared gasps pulled you back into the present. Mark whipped around immediately, laying eyes upon the same scene. In the middle of the room, Yancy was stood with a venomous look in his eyes. His fist was curled around the shirt material of the man he had been talking to, whose drink was shattered across the floor.

You glanced at Mark, eyes wide. He didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd towards the commotion. As you pushed through the shell-shocked people and manoeuvred through the shards of glass and splatters of spilt whiskey, you heard Yancy hissing through gritted teeth.

“If yous eversay anything like that to me again-”

“Yancy!”

Immediately, his gaze snapped towards you, his eyes softening. Cautiously, you stepped forward and pulled his arm away from the man, who took large steps backwards as soon as he was free.

Mark stepped in, keeping his voice quiet but firm. “We need to go. Now.”

You tugged Yancy’s arm again, pleading with your eyes. He sighed, complying, and slipped his hand into yours. With newfound bravery from the increased distance, the man spoke up, though his voice wavered.

“Who do you think are, acting like a common thug in a place like this?! I’ll have you locked up!”

Yancy turned and snarled at the man. “Bite me.”

You pulled on his hand yet again as Mark urged you forward. The room was deathly silent as you exited, the crowd parting for you like the red sea.

“That was too close,” you sighed as the three of you made your way outside. Yancy gave you an apologetic look and he fiddled with his bowtie, but his lips were still pressed into a thin line.

“Definitely way too close,” Mark agreed, leaning against your car. “What happened, anyway?”

Yancy scowled and cracked his neck. “He insulted my tattoos. Said they make me look trashy. Motherfucker.”

You and Mark glanced at each other, then back at Yancy. He deflated slightly, letting his shoulders drop.

“I-well…” Mark began, his eyes darting round in search of words. “Look, just try and forget about him. We got what we came for, okay?”

Yancy’s eyes were still ablaze, but he nodded.

“And besides,” Mark continued, still determined to ease the tension. “Who’s gonna be having the last laugh on Sunday?”

To your utter amazement, Yancy turned to Mark, and for the first time ever, he smiled at him. It was tiny, barely noticeable under the night sky, but it was there.

“True enough,” he agreed. He turned to you, guilt pouring onto his face more and more by the second. “Sorry, Z.”

You smiled back at him. “Don’t sweat it too much. We’re all out, and we’re unharmed. Just… try not to let the rich assholes rile you up so much next time, yeah?”

He let out a dark chuckle. “Sure.”

He opened the car door and climbed in, leaving you and Mark to let out a collective sigh into the night air.

“Thanks, Mark. You’re a good diplomat.”

“No problem. You okay, or do you want me to drive?”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

He sent another genuine smile your way before hopping into the back. “Sure thing.”

[nevernotwriting]

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 14: Black Tie Required

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

The next morning, you woke up early to the sound of effortful noises coming from your living room. You peeked your head around the corner, pleasantly surprised by what you saw.

Yancy was doing push-ups, his face concentrated on the rug below him with a single loose strand of hair dangling in front of his forehead. For the first time since last night, you were hit with the realisation that this was actually real. He was free, and he was here with you.

Yancy must have been thinking along the same lines; he startled when he looked up and saw you leaning against the doorway. He got to his feet and let out a small laugh.

“Sorry, force o’ habit in the mornings.”

“No need to apologise, I was enjoying the show.”

You could hardly believe the words that just came out of your mouth. Where the hell did that come from? You were mentally kicking yourself when Yancy broke out into a grin, glancing at the floor and sweeping his hair back into place with one hand.

“Nice to know I’m appreciated.”

You laughed with him, skipping back to your room to get ready for the day. You knew it was going to be a long and eventful one; hopefully, Yancy would help you get your job back, and be allowed to join the heist team. You grimaced as you imagined Mark’s reaction, but scoffed at yourself as you stepped into your jeans.

He left you in prison, who cares what he thinks?

Your heart tugged, knowing it wasn’t as simple as that, but you pushed past the feeling and grabbed a shirt and a jacket. You made a mental note to take Yancy to the store later so he could get some kit of his own.

A soft beeping noise from the kitchen made your ears perk up.

“Uh… Zero?”

You made your way down the hall. “Yeah?”

As you entered the kitchen, Yancy turned to you with a panicked look on his face.

“I think I broke youses coffee machine.”

“Nah,” you laughed, turning the machine off at the socket. “It does that all the time, don’t worry about it. It’s kinda busted. We can get some coffee at HQ instead, it’s pretty good there. And later we can go and get you some more clothes, if you want?”

Yancy didn’t seem to be listening to you. His gaze clouded over as if he were staring at something a thousand miles away.

“Yancy? You okay?”

He shook himself out of his daydream with a soft frown. “Yeah, I uh… sorry. Just… it’s been a while, since I’ve been…” He gestured to your surroundings. “Anywhere but a prison cell. I gots to admit, it’s startin’ to sink in and… I’m a little nervous.”

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. You’re gonna do great. And if it makes you feel any better, you’re technically still gonna be surrounded by criminals when we get to HQ.”

Yancy laughed. “True enough.”

“Besides, I’ll protect you,” you joked.

Yancy looked you up and down with a raised eyebrow, sending a stir through your body. “Yous is a lot tougher than you look, I’ll give you that.”

“Uh… thanks, I think?”

Yancy chuckled, placing a hand over yours with a gentle squeeze. “Yous gotta learn to take a compliment.”

He moved past you. You stayed frozen in your spot, his words springing a not-so-distant memory to the forefront of your mind, one filled with rooftops and sunrises.

“Awh come on Zero, just take the compliment.”

You grumbled, stomping to the front door and grabbing some shoes. Yancy re-emerged moments later, looking slightly less nervous as he stood tall and puffed out his chest.

“Ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go, Z.”

Yancy stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide as he realised what he’d said. You merely chuckled, unlocking the front door.

“Not heard thatone before.”

You stood at the entrance to HQ, taking a deep breath in. There was only a set of double doors and a few footsteps separating you from whatever was coming next. Yancy grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

“C’mon, yous got this.”

With one last grateful glance in his direction, you opened the door and walked inside.

All eyes were on you and Yancy as you entered the main office, making a nervous lump rise in your throat. Shrike and Gareth looked up from their desks. Jasmine almost dropped her coffee as she twizzled round in her seat, and even Vakarian looked vaguely surprised as he stopped dead in his tracks. From the far end of the room, Mark’s eyes flickered with a sliver of delight at your return, but it disappeared when they landed on Yancy.

Every inch of you filled with anxiety as the very last person you wanted to see rounded the corner; Shark. She stared at everyone in the room, then at you, her eyes briefly flicking to Yancy. She broke the silence with a simple snap of her fingers.

“Mark. Zero. My office. Now.”

Mark got to his feet with a sharp inhale. You glanced at Yancy, your anxiety lessening slightly as he gave you a confident nod. You trailed a short distance behind Shark, taking solace as you left the main office and the watchful eye of your fellow criminals. Mark caught up to you and touched your arm, speaking in a confused whisper.

“What’s hedoing here?” He pointed behind him towards Yancy, who was following behind from a short distance.

You pulled your arm away from him. “Mind your own business.”

Shortly ahead, Shark was stood by her office door with her arms folded. Her eyes were still as cold as ever as you entered. Mark followed you, but Yancy was stopped in his tracks by Shark’s firm words.

“You. Wait here for now.”

She slammed the door shut after her, and you wiped your palms on your thighs. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Mark trying to give you a reassuring look, but you fixated on Shark’s desk as she stood on the other side of it. Her expression was unreadable, but it sent a chill down your spine.

“So,” she began at last. “You’re alive. And you made it back from your little prison vacation.”

Her expression changed, and the look on her face made you want to leap across the desk and strangle her right then and there. Something in your body language must have given you away, because Mark turned his head towards you with a look of caution.

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing your anger. “I’m alive and mostly unharmed.”

“From what Mark told me, you had quite the adventure on your first heist.” She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “How are you?”

The question caught you off guard; so she did care, at least a bit. You swallowed before answering. “I’m fine.”

“And the artefact?”

Mark cleared his throat. “Like I said, ma’am-”

“Quiet, Mark. I wanna hear Zero’s side of the story.”

Mark’s face turned red and he averted his eyes to the floor. You took in a deep breath.

“It’s gone. Prison Warden confiscated it.”

Shark sighed, cursing under her breath. She turned around, staring at the wall as tension continued to plague the room.

“Well, your stories match, so consider yourselves lucky.”

You dared a glance at Mark. He gave you a small nod, his face saying a thousand words he could not utter in front of your boss.

“But tell me this.” The previous brief flicker of humanity disappeared as she turned round and slammed her hands on the desk. The sound made you jump. “You got yourself shot, landed not only yourself but my best thief in prison, andyou lost the damn thing we’ve been working towards for god knows how fucking long.” More rage filled every word as spit flecked the corners of her mouth.

“Why the hell should I give you another chance?”

Heart hammering, you decided it was time to play your trump card. You crossed the room and stood next to the door.

“Because I brought someone who knows what he’s doing.”

You opened the door. Yancy turned in surprise, and you beckoned him in.

“Ma’am,” you began with a clear of your throat. “This is Yancy. He was an inmate at Happy Trails Penitentiary. He helped me escape that place, and… I think he’ll be a valuable asset to the team.”

Yancy stood in the doorway, arms folded and lips in a tight line. He stepped inside and you shut the door after him, not missing the glare Mark shot in his direction. Shark stood up straight, assessing him. Yancy didn’t falter.

Silence. Eventually, Shark hummed.

“What d’you get locked up for?” She asked.

“Does it matter?” Yancy replied.

Your stomach dropped. Shark let out a small, high-pitched laugh and raised her eyebrows. “You’ve got some nerve. I like it. How long were you locked up for?”

“Ten years.”

“Why leave now?”

Yancy stopped, glancing at you briefly. “I gots somethin’ worth fightin’ for.”

A smile started to emerge on your face, but it stopped when Mark let out a scoff.

“Please,” he muttered. You shot him a death glare.

Shark smirked. “I’m sensing some tension here. Will the two of you working together be a problem?”

Mark and Yancy turned their heads and stared at one another. You turned to Mark with pleading eyes. He looked back at you, his eyes softening as he let out a defeated sigh.

“No, ma’am,” he mumbled.

You turned to Yancy. He straightened his back.

“I guarantee Iwon’t cause no trouble, ma’am,” he responded, one eyebrow raised with a daring side glance. “Yous want somethin’ done, I get it done. No questions asked. And I ain’t afraid to get my hands dirty.”

Shark pursed her lips, eyes darting between the three of you. Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, Yancy interrupted her.

“But with all due respect, I have one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

“Let Z off the hook.”

You held your breath, not daring to take your eyes away from Shark. After what felt like an eternity, she rolled her eyes and nodded.

“All right, fine. Consider yourself lucky, Zero. But I’m warning you, all three of you are on probation until you prove yourselves. Have I made myself clear?”

A series of nods and yesses filled the room, and a weight lifted from your shoulders.

He actually pulled it off.

“Good.” Shark picked up a folder from her desk and flicked through it. “I want the three of you working together for a new assignment. We’ve got some open plans still waiting to be set in motion…”

Yancy looked at you and smiled, giving you a wink. You smiled back, heart fluttering. You really owed him for this one.

A knock sounded at the door. Shark looked up from her folder. “Come in.”

The door opened and Shrike entered, a surprising spring in her step. She presented a piece of paper to Shark.

“Boss, you’re not gonna believe this,” she breathed. “Y’know that museum in Yorba Linda you wanted us to look into the other day?”

“The Nixon library?”

Shrike nodded enthusiastically. “They’re having an open artwork exhibit at the end of this week. The whole place is gonna be filled with priceless paintings, and Jazz just worked some of her magic and snagged three tickets.”

Shark nodded, still scanning the paper. “Good work. What’s the catch?”

“It’s just a small one. Black tie required.”

Shark looked up at last, locking eyes with you. You gulped, already knowing what she was going to say.

“Well, looks like we’ve found a job for you three.”

You, Mark, and Yancy glanced between each other.

“We’ll do our best, ma’am,” Mark said.

“You’d better,” Shark replied, straight back to her cold demeanour. She turned to Shrike, who had been carefully observing Yancy with interest.

“Shrike, take these three to the conference room and give ‘em the lowdown. Zero, I want you and Yancy in the gymnasium straight after. Make sure he knows how to use our gear.”

“Right, uh, yes ma’am,” you agreed, snapping out of your anxious thoughts. You couldn’t afford to screw this one up. A black-tie evening could be fun though… right?

As you followed Shrike down the corridor, she turned to Yancy, giving him the same long stare that Shark had given him.

“So you’re Yancy, I take it?” She asked.

“Yep.”

She glanced at Mark, who was trailing just shortly behind you. “Are you related to Mark?”

Yancy blinked. “What? No.”

Shrike shrugged. “You look kinda similar is all.”

Mark groaned. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Bang.Bang.

You stared at the farthest dummy ahead of you, two new bullet holes gracing its chest. Yancy lowered his gun and frowned, sighing through his nostrils. A strange sensation ran through your stomach, a mixture of intimidation and admiration.

“My aim’s not as good as it used to be,” Yancy sighed, glancing at you and clicking the safety on. “Guess I’s a bit rusty.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “You call that rusty? And here I thought I was meant to be teaching you,” you laughed.

Yancy grinned, a hint of pink gracing his cheeks. “Well, we’s got time. I’m sure there’s plenty more you can teach me, Z.”

His smile turned into a sultry smirk that rooted you to the spot. It was only when he broke your eye contact to put the gun down that you snapped back into reality and followed him, returning your own gun to its rightful place.

“Come on then, maybe we can try the grappling hook next?” You suggested, that strange sensation still working its way through you as you grabbed two grappling guns and turned to Yancy. The feeling intensified as Yancy approached you, waiting until he was only inches away to gently place his hands over yours and lower the grappling guns down. His eyes bore into yours, and your cheeks were on fire as he briefly looked down at your lips before clearing his throat.

“There’s just… somethin’ I wanna say first.” His eyes flickered down again.

You nodded, your throat too dry to form words.

Yancy looked to the side and frowned briefly. “You and Mark… I know yous said about that date you had planned, back when we were in prison.” His eyes grew cold as he stared into nothingness. Still you waited, patient but eager to hear what he wanted to say so badly that it required standing mere inches from you.

“It’s just… I can tell he’s still sweet on yous,” Yancy continued, looking at you at last. His eyes softened for a brief moment. “But I’s gotta be honest, Z. I don’t want no love triangles.”

You blinked as you processed his words. So that’s what was on his mind. You smiled a little and shook your head, moving one of your hands on top of his.

“If you’re trying to figure out if I’m available, there’s no need. Mark left me in prison, and… that kinda put a damper on things.” You gave a humorous smile, but Yancy still didn’t look convinced as he stared back at you, unmoving.

“There’s not gonna be a love triangle, I promise,” you tried again, squeezing his hand. “We’re all adults. We’ll handle this next heist maturely, I’m sure of it.”

After what felt like an eternity, Yancy nodded and smiled genuinely, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding.

“All right, Z. Thanks.”

“No problem,” you beamed back at him. “Now come on, the sooner we get you trained up, the sooner we can leave before all the stores close. We gotta make sure we fit in at this black-tie evening.” You ghosted your hands away from his, brandishing your grappling gun and striding towards the wall with cheerful steps.

Yancy scoffed behind you. “I dunno if someone like me will ever fit in at a place like that, but it’s worth a shot.”

Next chapter

[nevernotwriting]

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 13: Breakout

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

It was nightfall. You were sat in your car in the same spot as earlier in the day with your stomach in knots.

This was the moment of truth.

You took a deep breath and stepped out into the cool night air, making your way to the side of the building. The sight of the iron gate brought fresh memories flooding back to you. You could almost see yourself curled up at the base of the tree nearby again, debilitating over what to do. All you could do now was hope that Yancy would be here soon.

The sound of a car stopping nearby pulled you out of your thoughts. You frowned in confusion as Vakarian and Mark climbed out, wandering over to you.

Mark scratched the back of his head and averted his eyes, offering a small smile. You folded your arms.

“What’s with the backup?” You asked as Vakarian slung a sniper rifle over one shoulder and unzipped his duffel bag. He glanced up at you and Mark, then quickly took great interest in the bag’s contents.

“I figured it might be a good idea, in case things get ugly,” Mark responded.

You nodded. “Fair enough, but it won’t. Yancy knows the place inside out, he’ll be able to slip out unseen.”

Mark frowned, contemplating his words. “Zero… how long has he been in here, exactly?”

You shrugged. “A while, I guess. He got locked up for murder-”

Mark’s eyes widened.

“But he didn’t do it!” You exclaimed. “He’s done some bad shit, but so have we. But he’s no murderer.”

Mark deflated a little, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All right. Let’s just get this over with before I have a heart attack.”

Vakarian strode towards the two of you, popping gum and acting as nonchalant as ever. He locked eyes with you and smiled, offering his hand to shake. You took it with a friendly nod, trying not to stare at the bright pink gum protruding from between his teeth.

“Good to see you in one piece, Zero.”

“Thanks, Vakarian. Mark give you the lowdown?”

He nodded. “I’m gonna get a better vantage point in that tree. Care to join me?”

You looked at Mark, feeling a pang of guilt seep into your chest. Despite still being mad at him, you didn’t want to leave him alone when he’d agreed to help you.

Mark smiled at you, more genuine than before. “Go ahead, I’ll keep an eye out on the ground level. Might wait in the car though, it’s a little chilly tonight.”

Vakarian chuckled and tossed a small two-way radio to Mark from his duffel bag. “Take this. We’ll tell you if we see anything.”

Mark nodded, his eyes darting to you one more time before he climbed back into his car. You sighed and followed Vakarian. He swung himself into the tree with little effort and held a hand out to you.

“Come on up, short stack.”

“Just cause you’re six foot seven,” you scoffed as you hoisted yourself up and got comfy.

“Exactly. When you’re as tall as me, everyone’s a short stack,” he chuckled.

You shook your head, getting yourself comfy as Vakarian positioned the radio between the two of you. He rooted through his bag and handed you a pair of binoculars. Though you hadn’t spent much time with him outside of HQ, you were grateful for his company now as you peered over the edge of the prison walls, nerves seeping into your veins. The radio buzzed.

“You guys in position?” Came Mark’s fuzzy voice.

Vakarian picked up the device. “Yep. No sign of jailbird just yet.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Jailbird?”

He shrugged as he placed the radio back down. “Mark’s idea.”

With a snort, you passed him the binoculars and decided to change the subject.

“So… how’ve things been?”

Vakarian popped his gum again as he contemplated the question. “Pretty tense. Shark’s been on a rampage ever since you got locked up, bludgeoning everyone in her path. Mark’s return barely pacified her cause he came back empty handed. Jasmine took a couple days off just to get out of her way.”

He lowered the binoculars again and looked at you. “Everyone’s been really worried about you, though. Especially Mark. He said you got shot?”

Guilt ran through you again, but you pushed it down. “Yeah, but it’s fine. Still healing, but I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Vakarian returned to looking through the binoculars. You rubbed your hands together as the wind whipped between the tree branches, the sound of bristling leaves filling the air. Anxious, you peered over his shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of anything, or anyone.

“You see anything yet?”

“Not yet. But no guards, either.”

You inhaled a shaky breath and peddled your legs back and forth, trying to distract your mind from the worst-case scenario. Vakarian placed the binoculars down and snapped his head towards you suddenly. Even underneath his curls, you could tell his eyebrows were knitted together.

“So,” he began, chewing his gum fiercely. “What’s the deal with this guy, anyway? He like a relative or something?”

Your face grew warm. “I thought you said Mark gave you the lowdown.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t elaborate much on this guy we’re breaking out. He said his name’s Yancy or something? And that was about it.”

“Yeah, Yancy,” you replied. The image of him on the other side of the gate flashed through your mind as you said his name, a metallic taste entering your mouth. “He’s… I care about him. And he doesn’t deserve to be in there.”

Vakarian let out a deep, rumbling laugh, the gum nearly falling out of his mouth. He shook his head at you. “Riiight, I see.”

“What?”

“Nothin’, just connectin’ some dots.” He blew a gigantic pink bubble, letting it pop around his mouth.

“Can you please take this seriously?” You grumbled. “Do you have to chew gum right now?”

“Helps me concentrate if I have to shoot,” he replied with a carefree smile.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. If you weren’t so on edge, you’d have laughed.

The radio buzzed again with Mark’s voice. “It’s been ten minutes, guys.”

Your stomach dropped and you bit your lip. Sensing your nerves, Vakarian checked through the binoculars again.

“Zero, how long did it take you to get out when you escaped?” Mark asked.

You picked up the radio. “Uh… shit, I don’t know,” you sighed. There were too many clouds in your mind to remember, and your escape had been shrouded in darkness – it could have been anywhere from five to fifty minutes, for all you knew.

“Don’t worry. We’ll stick around a bit longer, yeah?” Vakarian reassured you, offering the binoculars. You snatched them up with an anxious noise of agreement as he took the radio.

“You get that, Mark?”

“Loud and clear.”

Time passed by, and the night was only getting colder. Vakarian tried to keep you distracted with small talk, but you still bit your lip to the point of bleeding. A sudden crackle from the radio startled you, making you almost fall out of the tree.

“Guys… it’s been nearly thirty minutes.”

Vakarian ceased his incessant chewing and shot you a concerned look. Before he could give any kind of reassurance, you shuffled to the edge of the branch and leapt out of the tree, hitting the ground with a thud. You cast one final glance at the gate, your eyes filling with tears, then turned to trudge back to your car.

Mark leapt out of his car when he saw you approaching.

“Zero, I-”

“Yeah, you told me so. Save it, Mark,” you snapped, folding your arms and staring at the ground.

Mark shuffled on the spot, fiddling with the radio in one hand. “I… I was just gonna say I’m sor-”

The radio crackled.

“Guys?”

Your head snapped up, and you quickly wiped your tears as Mark spoke into the radio.

“What is it?”

“There’s someone at the gate.”

You didn’t need to hear those words twice. Your feet sprinted to the gate faster than your brain could comprehend. A familiar figure in a white shirt and striped trousers was unlocking the gate.

Yancy closed the gate after him, the sound of clanging metal echoing. He stared through the bars, gently letting go of them and dusting off his hands. When you were a few feet away, you came to an abrupt halt.

“Yancy!”

He whipped round, his eyes suddenly focused. He smoothed a hand over the tattoo on his arm. A soft smile appeared.

“Hey.”

You laughed apprehensively and took a step closer, a whole new set of nerves entering your body. Your eyes flicked to the ground.

“I didn’t think you were gonna show.”

Yancy exhaled. “Yeah, I… sorry for the wait. Couldn’t leave the gang without a leader, ya know?”

You nodded and chewed your lip, mentally kicking yourself for getting so worked up. Before you could say anything more, Yancy spoke again.

“Don’t worry, Zero. I wasn’t gonna leave yous.”

His words rippled through you like a lightning bolt. Before you could stop yourself, you ran to him and wrapped your hands around his shoulders. He staggered but held you just as tightly in return, chuckling in your ear.

A loud thud sounded as Vakarian exited the tree, and the two of you pulled apart.

“You brought backup?” Yancy asked.

“Yeah. This is Vakarian.”

Vakarian stopped. “You’re Yancy?”

“The one and only,” Yancy replied, holding his hand out. Vakarian took it with a curious grin. You turned to see Mark approaching with his hands in his pockets, and silence fell over the four of you.

“And… this is Mark.”

Yancy’s gaze steeled in an instant as he looked Mark up and down. Mark offered a brief smile that quickly disappeared as Yancy folded his arms. You held your breath.

Thankfully, Vakarian broke the tension.

“Huh. You two look kinda similar.”

Mark and Yancy stared at him, both equally bewildered.

“Do we?” Mark finally spoke.

“I always thought so,” you offered.

Yancy frowned with a low grunt. “I don’t see it.”

More silence.

“Oookay, well…” Vakarian cleared his throat. “Looks like our job’s done. Zero, I assume you can take it from here?”

You nodded. “Y-yeah, thanks guys. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Mark’s eyes lit up for the first time. “You’re coming back?”

“I think so,” you replied. “Anyway. Yancy, d’you need somewhere to stay?”

Yancy blinked out of the death glare he was still directing at Mark, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks as he looked at you. He scratched the back of his neck with a nervous laugh.

“I uh… yeah. Didn’t really think ahead of the prison walls, to be honest.”

Mark snorted, but averted his gaze when you glared at him. You turned back to Yancy.

“That’s fine, you can stay with me if you like.”

Yancy smiled. “Yous sure?”

“Yeah, come on!”

With a spring in your step, you walked towards your car, Yancy following behind. You shouted goodnight to Mark and Vakarian, but their car doors slammed shut just as you turned around.

Yancy was visibly more relaxed now it was just the two of you, seeming content to quietly watch the world go by until you arrived at your apartment.

“Well, here we are.” You unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Yancy’s eyes darted everywhere, and you wrung your hands together.

“It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Yancy turned to you and smiled. “Believe me, it’s the nicest place I’ve seen in ten years.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Ten years?”

“Yeah, did I never tell yous? Well… would’ve been longer… if it weren’t for yous.” He smiled, and heat rose to your face.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

You led him to your spare room. He inspected all of your various decorations and picture frames, taking a particular shine to a small photo of you on your graduation day with your parents smiling proudly on either side of you.

“This is nice,” he said with a smile that quickly faded. “I was in theatre school, before… well…”

“Maybe you’ll get to go back.”

Yancy glanced up at you and placed the picture back down. “Maybe.”

“Anyway, there’s some spare clothes on the bed over there. They’re Mark’s, but they should fit you. Bathroom’s across the hall if you want to use it.”

Yancy walked over to the bed and picked up the clothes, inspecting them with a raised eyebrow.

“Are yous sure he ain’t your boyfriend?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I just had to borrow them after I got out.”

“I was just teasin’ yous,” Yancy snickered with a wink.

“Right,” you laughed, leaving him to it.

Ten minutes later you were back in the kitchen, throwing together some semblance of food for the two of you. Broadway songs echoed from down the hall where Yancy was singing away to himself in the shower. You paused for a moment, relishing in the feeling of a plan finally going off without a hitch. A twinge of guilt still hit you when you thought about Mark, but your heart soared knowing that Yancy was finally out, getting another shot at life.

Yancy walked into the kitchen just as you were serving up two bowls of pasta. He was wearing the clothes you’d borrowed from Mark, running his hands through his damp hair. You stopped in your tracks and blinked.

“What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Here, you hungry?”

You slid a bowl of pasta across the counter top in his direction. He stared down at it as if it were a foreign object.

“Yous made that for me?”

His question caught you off guard. “Well, technically for both of us, cause I haven’t eaten much today. But… yeah.”

His voice was quiet when he spoke again. “You know I said yous sure are one of a kind?”

Your stomach flipped, but you brushed it off. “It’s just pasta, Yancy.”

“I stand by what I said.” He stepped closer to you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he wrapped his arms around your waist, settling his head on your shoulder. You returned the gesture, one of your hands touching the edge of his hair. Either Yancy was incredibly warm, or your skin was on fire.

He withdrew and held you in his arms, your breath still caught in your throat. The clock on the wall ticked on in the everlasting silence as his eyes flicked briefly to your lips, your hand shifting to his shoulder as he tightened his grip on your waist-

Your phone buzzed on the counter top, cutting through the silence. Yancy’s hands dropped from your waist with an awkward clear of his throat. You grabbed your phone, unlocking it with a long exhale.

“Sorry. It’s Mark, he’s asking about work stuff.” You sighed, running a hand down your face. “I gotta go in tomorrow and face the music.”

Yancy hummed in understanding, his face pursed in thought.

“Yous want me to go with you? I can ruff ‘em up if yous need me to,” he chuckled, cracking his knuckles.

“I don’t think beating up my boss is gonna help me keep my job, Yancy,” you laughed. “Though it would be satisfying.”

Another pause, until Yancy’s face lit up with a new idea.

“D’yous think… yous got room on your team for one more criminal?”

You blinked. “I mean… probably, but you only just got out of prison. Are you sure you wanna go straight back to a life of crime?” You cringed at your own words. “Sorry, forget I said that. I’m the last person who should be saying that.”

Yancy laughed. “No harm done. So what d’ya say? I convince your boss lady – Shark, yous said she was called?”

You nodded, flattered he had remembered such a small detail from one of your previous conversations.

“I convince Shark that I can be part o’ the team, but only if she lets you off the hook. Then yous and I can be partners in crime.”

The boldness of his suggestion made your head spin, but you couldn’t deny it sounded pretty damn good. Sensing your train of thought, Yancy broke out into a grin.

“All right, Yancy. You got a deal.”

Next chapter

[nevernotwriting]

mans :) he in love

!!!! REBLOGS OVER LIKES !!!!

[nevernotwriting]

Cell Block Blues

This happened at about one am last night and I just got around to editing it

Pairing- Reader/Yancy

Word Count- 1056

Request?- Yes!

Summary- Usually you used the end of the day to decompress. Tonight, however, Yancy has a question or two for you.

Tag List- @cookielover0001010​ , @swag-droid​

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[nevernotwriting]

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 12: The Ropes

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

Two months earlier…

One of the many things that surprised you during your first fortnight at HQ was the sheer size of the place. There was a whole west corridor filled with storage cupboards and empty offices. At the end of this corridor was a staircase, which you assumed led to the roof, and one final double door that you had yet to see the other side of.

Until now.

Mark held the door open, stepping in after you. “Welcome to the gymnasium.”

Your eyes scanned the vast room. It lacked the shiny wooden floor of every other gymnasium you’d been in, but you could see where it got its nickname from nonetheless. One wall was lined almost entirely with a variety of unfamiliar and intimidating equipment. The opposite wall was covered in thick padding, with target dummies standing idly at different distances across one half of the room. The other half had the same padding on the floor and was littered with gymnastics obstacles, including a rock-climbing wall with a platform at the top that towered above everything else.

A gasp left your mouth, your eyebrows shooting up. The door slammed shut, but the sound barely registered in your awestruck mind.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Mark said, standing next to you with his arms folded. “So, you ready to learn the ropes, rookie?”

You scratched the back of your neck, shuffling on the spot. “That depends. What are the ropes, exactly?”

Mark listed off activities on his fingers one by one. There was CQC training, target practice, wall climbing, and learning to use the grappling gun.

“We don’t have to do them all in one day,” Mark laughed as a look of horror overtook your face. “We can just do target practice and the grappling gun today, they’re most important. Besides, Shrike’s better at teaching CQC to rookies than I am.”

“Will you stop calling me that?” You sighed, taking off your jacket and tossing it onto a nearby bench. Either it was warm in here, or your nerves were building up and making you sweat before you’d even started.

Mark titled his head as he looked at you. “What, rookie?” He shrugged. “Well, you don’t want us to use your real name, and you still haven’t picked a nickname, so…”

You grumbled. He had a point. With a roll of your eyes, you decided to drop the subject. You were eager to get back to the familiarity of your monitor in front of you, a cup of coffee in one hand as you and Jasmine chatted away over work.

“All right, fine. Let’s just get on with it, yeah?”

“That’s more like it!”

Mark leapt into action, ushering you towards a wall where handguns of various shapes and sizes stood ready to be taken down.

“First thing’s first, I’ll show you how to equip a silencer.” He reached into a locker, pulling out the attachments that you vaguely recognised from TV and films. He also pulled out two pairs of safety goggles, tossing one pair towards you.

“Just in case,” he said with a wink. You rolled your eyes as you slipped them on.

He showed you how to equip a silencer, impressed with how easily it came to you. You were locked and loaded in seconds, unable to hide the proud grin now plastered on your face. Either Mark was a great teacher, or you were going to be better at this than you thought. Mark kept his eyes trained on you as he led you towards a duct tape line on the floor directly opposite the target dummies.

“We only use tranquiliser rounds out on the field, but we don’t have enough of them to spare for target practice, so we’ll use real bullets to work on your aim,” he explained as he readied the gun.

“Wait! Isn’t this gonna wear down the silencer?”

Mark lowered the gun and shrugged. “Yeah, but we got plenty more. Besides, it’s either this or blow your ears off.”

“So we have protective goggles but no earplugs?” You laughed. “Health and safety policy’s a little out of perspective here.”

“Or Shark’s just a cheapskate,” Mark added. His face quickly contorted into a worried frown. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Mark smiled gratefully, and you stepped back as he got back into position. In a split second, his face changed to one of pure concentration as he fired two shots. On the far end of the room, one of the dummies fell to the floor with two bullet holes; one in its shoulder, the other in its torso.

You raised your eyebrows. “Uh… woah.”

Mark grinned at you, his face lighting up with pride. He clicked the safety on, then held the gun out to you.

“Your turn.”

You tore your eyes away from his, swallowing as you took the weapon. The metal was cool to the touch, only emphasising the warmth of your fingertips and the sweat building on your palms. Turning the safety off, you let your finger touch the trigger.

The recoil rippled down your arms, making you lose your aim entirely. The bullet hit the foam wall at the opposite end with a loud thump, several inches above where you were aiming. Despite knowing this would happen, you still wished the ground would swallow you up as you turned to Mark, face full of embarrassment.

“Crap… sorry.”

Mark chuckled and shook his head. “Not a problem. You got the right posture for the most part, but your left arm was a little high. Try again.”

You repositioned yourself ready to fire. Mark moved to your side, hovering a hand above your left arm. He turned his head towards you, and you realised just how close he was stood to you.

“May I?”

You blinked in surprise at his question and nodded, letting him reposition your arm. Self-consciousness overtook you again as you fired a second shot, but your aim was much better this time with Mark keeping your arm in place. The bullet scraped the edge of one of the dummies, leaving a small dint in the side of its chest.

“That’s better!” Mark exclaimed. He smiled at you, eyes shining from more than the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

“Not bad for a rookie, huh?”

Mark stepped away from you. “Not bad at all. Try it on your own this time.”

You fired a few shots on your own, considerably better than the ones before. After some more rearranging of limbs and some gentle pointers, you landed a shot in the middle of one of the dummies’ chests. You clicked the safety back on and turned back to Mark with a triumphant smile.

“Nice! Can you do it again?”

“Probably not.”

The two of you laughed. Mark beckoned you towards him and took the gun from you.

“Let’s try something else before you get too cocky, yeah?”

“Hey!” You protested. “Let me have my moment of glory.”

He shook his head with a smile, walking towards the rock-climbing wall and grabbing two grappling guns on his way. “I’m just teasing you,” he replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes again, but something stirred in your heart. He turned back around just in time to miss the bashful smile that broke out onto your face.

“All right, this is my favourite part, but it’s also the scariest for a lot of rook- first timers,” he corrected himself with an apologetic look tossed your way. You smiled.

“We’ll take it easy for the first try, so you can get used to it. We’re gonna hook the gun onto that bar there,” he gestured to a large metal bar above the platform protruding from the wall, “and then climb up.”

You frowned. “Why do we need to climb, can’t we just zip straight up?”

“Yeah, but trust me, it’s better to take it slow at first so you can get used to it. This thing’s got a lot of power. Plus, gives you a chance to use some muscles.” Mark flexed his arm in an exaggerated manner.

“More like gives you yet another chance to show off,” you laughed.

Mark snorted, tossing a grappling gun your way. “You got me.”

Looking up at where you were headed, you felt your heart skip a beat, a nervous lump rising in your throat. It seemed an awfully long way up, with only gymnastics mats as your cushion if you were to fall. Pushing down your anxieties, you watched as Mark showed you how to hook the gun onto the bar. After a couple of tries you managed it, and you were ready to climb. Mark latched his free hand onto one of the holds, then turned back to you.

“C’mon, you got this!”

The wall loomed over you threateningly. Mark sped ahead of you as you slowly worked your way upwards, shouting back encouragement and advice as you ascended. Your free hand was growing sweaty from the effort, but the comfort of the grappling gun secured safely above you boosted your confidence, pumping adrenaline through your veins.

“You’re doing great, you’re almost there!” Mark shouted down to you. He was already sat on the platform, one hand outreached and ready for you. His encouragement was contagious, and you let out a cheerful laugh, eyes creasing in the corners.

And then you looked down.

“Uh… Mark?”

Your legs froze in place as you stared at the floor below you. When the hell did you get this high up? Every fibre of your body was slowly grinding to a halt, making you unable to move one way or the other.

Just as your breathing began to quicken, Mark grabbed your attention.

“Hey, eyes on me, okay?”

His words broke through your tunnel vision and you snapped your head up. His voice was soothing as he continued, but seriousness clouded his eyes.

“You’re almost there, see?” He gestured to the bar just above him. “Just three more steps, then you can grab my hand.”

Panic took over again, your knuckles bulging as your throat clenched. “I can’t do it!”

“Yes you can, just focus on what to do next. See that green one to your left? Grab it.”

You forced a deep breath into your lungs and pried your iron grip from the orange hold you were currently holding on to for dear life. Pulling yourself up, you realised you had to move your legs to ascend further. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down again, moving one shaky leg after the other. A string of curse words left your lips.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before. We might have to start calling you foul mouth.”

You glared back up at Mark. “Not funny.”

He chuckled, gesturing to another hold just above you. You grabbed it as he continued talking.

“All right, well… how about something to do with computers, then? You’re really into tech stuff.”

You groaned, gritting your teeth together. Your muscles were starting to ache as he continued his oddly cheerful spiel.

“Ooh, how about Bing? Like the search engine? Or even Google, cause you’re smart! That’d be cool!”

“Mark,” you snapped, “I really don’t wanna talk about nicknames right now.”

“I was just trying to distract you from panicking. And it seems like it worked.”

You looked up again. Mark’s hand was now a few inches away from yours. He smiled at you, his eyes full of genuine adoration and a hint of “I told you so.”

“Oh.” Words escaped you. Mark’s smile widened, and you slowly returned the gesture as you took his hand and scrambled onto the platform. Your muscles relaxed the second you sat down, your entire body deflating from stress. Mark was still smiling at you as he unhooked your guns from the bar.

“You did it!” He exclaimed, his hand brushing yours for a moment. The smile still hadn’t left his face.

Eyebrows raised, you nodded and placed your gun to one side, looking at your hands. “Yeah… guess I did.”

“Seriously, I’m super impressed.”

You looked up at him again. His smile had softened, and it made your stomach flip unexpectedly.

“Thanks.”

Silence settled between the two of you as you locked eyes for a moment, the last of your anxiety melting away. A question popped into your mind.

“Hey, uh…” You began, scratching the back of your neck. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

You cleared your throat, sitting up a little straighter. You averted your gaze, feeling Mark’s eyes still lingering on you.

“Why… why did you volunteer to show me the ropes? Like, I appreciate it and all, but isn’t your schedule pretty busy at the moment? Why didn’t you let someone else do it?”

Mark blinked as he contemplated your question. A singular chuckle left his throat.

“To be honest, I… I wanted to get to know you a little better. You’re pretty cool.”

His answer surprised you and made your stomach flip yet again. You shuffled in your spot, looking anywhere but back at him.

“Thanks, Mark. You’re not so bad yourself.”

His eyes were sparkling when you finally willed yourself to look at him. They were quickly taken over by a look of mischief.

“Don’t speak too soon, I’ve still got more to show you. And we’ve gotta get down first.”

“… Fuck.”

 Another hour of training passed by, leaving your muscles exhausted but your brain exhilarated. Mark tossed your jacket back towards you as you were getting ready to leave, giving you another smile.

“You did great today. Guess I’ll definitely have to stop calling you rookie, huh?”

“Actually, about that.” You tied your jacket around your waist. “I think I’ve thought of a nickname.”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “Let’s hear it.”

Self-consciousness bled into you again and you folded your arms. “Well… you’re right, I am really into tech. And I remembered as we were getting back down just then, that…”

You stopped and scratched the back of your neck again. Part of you wondered why your brain decided to relay all this information right now, but you felt compelled to share it as Mark waited patiently, his kind eyes and curious expression unwavering.

“… When I was a kid, I used to have this obsession with binary code. I dunno why, but I guess I’m grateful, cause it kinda led me down this path in the first place. So…”

Another pause as you cleared your throat. You knotted your hands together.

“How about you call me Zero?”

The question hung in the air for only a second before Mark nodded.

“Zero…” He contemplated the word. “Yeah. That really suits you.”

You broke into an unstoppable grin, your heart soaring. This place was truly starting to feel like home now.

“Well, Zero,” Mark stepped closer to you, holding out his hand for you to shake. “I look forward to working with you more.”

With newfound energy, you took a hold of his hand. “Likewise, Mark.”

Next chapter

[nevernotwriting]

mark and i both stim and it makes me go :} ppl with add and autistic ppl both stim so i went !!!!!!1 galaxy brain moment !!!!!!! cuz i saw a vid of him stimming and IM SO HAPPY RN !!!!!1 inspo from @catnippackets , pls follow them q-q i love their art